she needed, her breath, every inhale and exhale, awakening me.
I was a dark force in that moment, an expanding shadow, and I swallowed her whole without thought. My body flinched whenever her fingers spread a cold ointment over my wounds, my heart lurched as she touched me.
Willingly.
Without being forced.
Taking care of a body she’d helped destroy in a time when I was worth nothing.
She shouldn’t be near me.
She didn’t understand.
And yet she continued working to heal something that could never be repaired.
Her voice was a nervous whisper. “Why do you do this to yourself? Isn’t it dangerous?”
I laughed. “They’re only minor cuts. Nothing serious.”
“But you injure yourself before fighting? What if they hit your back?”
Such an innocent question. She would never understand.
“If I’m at a point where they can reach my back, then the fight is already over. I’ve lost.”
Lisbeth was quiet for only a few seconds. “And you’ll die.”
“Yes.”
The answer hung between us. I wanted to study her expression, read what was written behind her eyes, but if I turned to her now, I wouldn’t turn back. I wouldn’t stop.
“Why?”
The cord snapped when I heard tears in her voice. When I heard fear. When her body stilled in terror behind me, her fingertips grazing my back, stinging the wound she’d been exploring.
Pain sharpens the senses.
Every fucking one of them.
Even the ones you would never know had a hair trigger.
Spinning on her, I knocked the kit from her hand, her cry of surprise rising up to mingle with the clatter of plastic slapping the ground, of all the boxes and tubes spilling out over the marble.
I wasn’t in my head at that moment, I was in my heart, my stomach, my black soul that only knew to take, to punish, to assert my will while branding the entire fucking world with my name.
“Callan,” she crawled away from me, her movement slow and hesitant, her eyes so damn wide, they were mirrors reflecting my face back to me.
Grinning to see a flurry of contrasting emotions race across her expression, I pinned her in my stare, in my space, moving my body to trap her against my headboard where I could secure her in place before she understood what I was doing.
“I warned you. I’m not safe. You didn’t listen.”
A slight shake of her head, denial creeping in, surprise, shock ... want.
Yes, even now, even when she didn’t know whether to run or fight like hell, she tipped her chin up and challenged me.
My body pinned her legs in place, my eyes holding hers as I reached out to trap her wrist with one hand and grab a strap with the other.
How did those eyes possibly widen more? Big blue orbs glimmering with everything you should never show a predator unless you wanted him to hunt.
Her arm struggled to break free of my hold, but she never stood a chance. Where I was strong, she was weak. Where I knew dominance, she only knew to submit.
The struggle was just for show. Her vanity wouldn’t allow her to give up without at least pretending she’d fought.
We kept up appearances. Wore disguises. Flaunted every success and commendable feature while hiding the truth behind sparkling veneers and decorative masks.
I saw her, just like I always had, and maybe that’s why she punished me so much.
Lisbeth never had the ability to hide who she really was.
Not from me.
Not from the boy who lived to serve her.
After securing her right hand, I trapped the left, my lips curling into a smug grin when her body went still and her lungs caught her breath.
“I can’t have you scratching me again. It wouldn’t be good for the wounds that are already there.”
She did that pouty thing with her lips that used to drive me so fucking crazy, that scowl, that petulant expression that fashioned her into the brat I both loved and hated.
“We shouldn’t be doing this.”
I grinned.
“We shouldn’t have done a lot of things, but it never stopped us.”
Her dress ripped when I broke the zipper at her back. Gretchen would kill me for destroying another uniform, but I was the one who paid for them, so she could shut the hell up.
The gasp from Lisbeth’s lungs as I tore the seams and plucked the offensive barrier off of her was worth whatever the uniform would cost.
Seeing the marks I’d left before still bright and angry against flesh as pale as snow was worth buying a hundred more uniforms if need be.